Pocketbook prophylactics

My coming of age memoir Born to be Mild will be published later this summer. In the meantime, I'm hoping to seduce you with a sample of Pocketbook Prophylactics, one of the chapters in the book. Go to authorjameshees.com to learn more.

As I shifted into third, Susan moved right beside me, left arm around my neck, right hand on my leg.

Rather than savouring the moment, I obsessed.

‘What did I do with that rubber I had’?

Ever since I was 14, I stashed a condom in my wallet. So did all of my friends. It was a status symbol. A mark of machismo.

I was packing a Sheik, one of the condom brands that, for some reason, carried a middle eastern moniker. Like any sexy Iranian oil baron, I was constantly qualified for coitus.

My pocketbook prophylactic practice persisted for months. Then years. Eventually, it caused an outline of the rubber ring on the outside of my wallet, an irrefutable indication of celibacy. I descended from virile to virginal in the time it took to pay for a cherry coke. The cachet was gone, and, now, so was the rubber.

‘But, where did I put it? It was only three years old and probably still good, right’?

My inner monologue was interrupted by Susan’s hand rubbing my inner thigh.

“I’m not being too forward, am I?” She whispered.




“N-No, not at all.” I said, wheeling Big Blue into the drug store parking lot. “I just gotta stop here and pick up... uh... my mom’s prescription.”

I knew exactly where the condoms were at the Rexall. I quickly picked up a couple and headed for the cashier. But there was a problem. The biggest gossip in high school was working at the checkout.